


Promise Me

by sparklinglights



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Army Doctor John Watson, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, POV Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 07:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklinglights/pseuds/sparklinglights
Summary: John's returning to the army, Sherlock doesn't like it. A heart to heart talk ensues."The moment of silence felt like forever, and Sherlock’s insides trembled at the prospect that he had messed up everything and that this was the end of the story of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson."





	Promise Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Johnlockedness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockedness/gifts).



> My amazing friend, Johnlockedness and I had a little cosplay photoshoot based on the sketch of this scene this autumn, and ever since then I couldn't dismiss the idea of turning that sketch into a one shot ficlet. Now, it's here! So this is dedicated to her, the one and only army!John and a fantastic human being. My Christmas gift to you, Ness. xx
> 
> Many thanks to the awesome nutmeag83 for betaing this piece! x IOU

Sherlock sadly gazed at the yellow and red leaves floating on the dark water of the lake, oblivious to the slightly chilly autumn wind tousling his curls and brushing his cheek. Then there was someone beside him—heavy boots crushing the dry leaves on the ground. John. 

He sighed silently. Certainly, John knew where to find him; Sherlock couldn’t hide from him. Though, after John having announced his decision that morning, all Sherlock wanted was being alone, thinking.

“Sherlock…” John called his name quietly. 

Sherlock straightened his back without turning his head to look at John, stubbornly giving him the silent treatment. 

“Please, don't make this harder than it is,” John pleaded.

Sherlock huffed sulkily, but still didn’t turn around. 

“I have to go,” John sighed in resignation, apparently giving up on making Sherlock talk to him.

Sherlock flinched at the words, and his eyes squeezed shut in exasperation. “Don't…” he whispered, begging for dear life. Please, don’t. Don’t leave me. Not you. Not now.

“I have to. They need me.”

“I need you!” Sherlock whirled around, his eyes flashing wildly. How could John not see that? Why did it not matter to him?

“I'm sorry.” John looked away, biting his lip. “Understand me, this is something I want to do. This is my purpose...”

“No, it's not!” Sherlock countered vehemently, giving a fleeting glance to the army fatigues John wore. While at other times he found the apparel exciting, now he hated it because it symbolised that the army was taking John away from him. “You belong here.”

“Don't tell me what I have to do!” John snapped, his gaze sharp on Sherlock.

“But I can't–” Sherlock started, his voice faltering as he realised how close he’d come to uttering his deepest fear.

“You can't what?” John raised a brow, looking intently at him.

Sherlock swallowed hard, fighting the rising urge to cry. “Let you go...” His usually confident tone wavered, and fear lit up in his eyes. “What if you don't come back? What if you get hurt again and die... then I can never tell you–”

“Tell me what?” John narrowed his eyes. 

Sherlock shifted in embarrassment. All his confidence evaporated, and all he could do was blink nervously. Could he say it? 

“What, Sherlock?” John pressed, his dark blue eyes burning Sherlock’s skin as if he would die if he didn’t hear what Sherlock had to say.

“That...” Sherlock mumbled, but he couldn’t go on, the unshed tears burning his throat and eyes.

“Tell me,” John’s voice softened and his eyes shimmered in the golden light of the setting sun.

Sherlock’s throat tightened at the pleading, warm expression on John’s face. “If I say it, I won’t be able to let you go,” he choked, the overwhelming emotions straining his chest.

“Sherlock, tell me. Please.” John took a step closer, the colourful leaves crunching under his feet. “Maybe it's something I need to hear.”

Sherlock sighed. John’s soft pleading broke his resistance. There was no way back, he had to do the hardest thing in his life—baring his heart. He had to take the leap now that he stepped onto the ledge, the only question was whether he would survive the fall. 

As his eyes met John’s, the midnight blue eyes sparkled reassuringly, as if promising that John would catch him.

Inhaling deeply, Sherlock braced himself and jumped. “I...I love you,” he whispered. There, he’d said it. His life was in John’s hands now.

The autumn breeze felt colder and Sherlock shivered slightly.

The moment of silence felt like forever, and Sherlock’s insides trembled at the prospect that he had messed up everything and that this was the end of the story of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. 

But instead of frowning, John only smiled—the softest, purest smile ever—locking his eyes with Sherlock’s. “That's exactly what I needed to hear to do whatever I can to stay safe and come back... to you,” he breathed, touching the detective’s face. “I love you too, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s heart skipped a beat, and he blinked incredulously. It had to be a dream. “You do?”

“Yes, you idiot,” John laughed, cupping Sherlock’s face in both of his hands. “I always have.”

John’s warm touch assured him that this was real and not just a pathetic trick of his imagination. John loved him! While the revelation would have made him the happiest man on Earth under other circumstances, with John’s imminent return to the army, the moment had a bittersweet taste.

“Then stay, please,” Sherlock begged, covering John's hand on his face.

“I can't,” John whispered sadly. 

Sherlock’s world crashed. This couldn’t be happening. Not when he finally found what he had always been looking for—his other half, the complementing piece of the puzzle, his reason to live. With the current situation in the world, the looming terror attacks everywhere, reports on kidnapped and executed soldiers and civilians, he couldn’t dismiss the fear that John was going to be in danger. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if anything happened to John.

“Don’t,” he begged, unable to hold back his tears. “Please.” 

“Sherlock…” 

Sherlock’s chest tightened so much at the evident pain in John’s voice that he thought it would crush the organs in his ribcage.

“I promise that I’ll come back to you.” John’s eyes bore into Sherlock’s, emphasising the weight of the words.

Sherlock gazed at him, wordlessly swallowing the hot tears. He couldn’t convince John to stay, that was clear as day. The physical hurt of helplessness was agonising, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing but wait for the day when John would return to him. 

“Promise?” he croaked, searching John’s face (God, how beautiful he was in the light of the setting sun), desperately needing a tiny sign of reassurance.

“I swear.” John reaffirmed his touch on Sherlock’s face, locking eyes with the detective.

The intense, encouraging, warm gaze reaching his core, Sherlock could only nod, though his heart was bleeding.

John wiped away a teardrop that rolled down Sherlock's cheek, and Sherlock bit his trembling lip at the tender gesture, struggling to keep his tears at bay. 

“I swear,” John reiterated firmly, his eyes asking Sherlock to believe him, and in the next moment, Sherlock was only aware of soft lips gently pressing against his.

Sherlock's body quivered slightly, his heart pounding in his chest at the sweet sensation of John marking him with saliva and the light pressure of lips and sealing his promise with a kiss.

And then Sherlock knew.

John was going to come back. The story of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson had only just begun.


End file.
